Errors in Communication
by beckett77
Summary: In one day, she went from cadet to officer, she saw an entire planet destroyed, and she discovered with certainty that he did not love her back - he was meant for someone else.
1. Chapter 1

**Memory Lane**

She wriggled her toes inside her restrictive boots and scowled as she tugged at the bottom of her regulation skirt. Luckily, no one was in the hallway to see her undignified adjustments. Just because some of the other officers (cough-the captain-cough) were content with lax personal presentation didn't mean that she was.

Though she did have to admit that these uniforms were definitely vestiges of a bygone era, a time when cars traveled on the ground and women were expected to be demure. Seriously, the damn things were ridiculously short and forever riding up. Not at all conducive to the image of competency she was going for.

"Still think it was worth it to stick with the sexy skirt over the sensible pants?" she questioned herself.

A snort burst from her nose, at odds with the classic, soft nature of her face.

The sexy skirt really hadn't served her all that well. Which was pretty surprising when she considered the far less obvious manipulations of male testosterone in which she had engaged to much greater results.

Not that she typically relied on her oft-praised looks – she was, after all, a foremost Federation linguist and a decorated Starfleet officer – but it would be foolish of her not to use every tool at her disposal in obtaining her goals. One didn't get to be the Communications Officer on a Constitution Class Starship, indeed Starfleet's flagship, before age thirty by sitting around waiting for things to happen. So she didn't see the harm in occasionally cashing in on her genetic lottery.

However, in this case, the DNA cash flow was not affecting a certain person quite the way she had hoped it would. The one guy she wanted was also the only male aboard who hadn't checked out her toned runner's legs in the miniskirt.

Not once.

It was enough to make her want to scream. For heaven's sake, most of the female crew members had looked.

But no, not him.

Instead, he was aloof, holding her at arm's length, both emotionally and physically, refusing to compromise himself. Refusing her proffered feelings. Refusing her.

Oh sure, she was closer to him than most anyone else, both being creatures of the same prudent cloth who had shared an instant connection upon their meeting, and when it came down to it, she knew that he cared for her, but it wasn't in the same way that she cared for him.

And that was the real kicker. That she loved him and that they had so many things in common, an affinity for language, a love of music, a deep sense of duty, a respect for rules, and an aversion to chocolate, but still, despite it all, he didn't love her.

It still hurt to hear even in the privacy of her own head.

She'd loved him since the first time she went to his office hours for help translating Vulcan poetry and his voice had become alive, rich with the sound of enthusiasm, and his dark eyes warmed and his hands fluttered excitedly, eager to share with a student who wanted to grasp the spirit of his homeland.

She'd fallen under the spell of his intensity, intoxicated by his attention and approval.

Each term she signed up for every class of his that she could take and made a point of going to his office twice a week.

The judicious voice inside her head warned her that he was her teacher, that he regarded her only with scholarly warmth, that she was being silly to indulge a school-girl crush at her age, but she ignored it, squashing it ruthlessly beneath the weight of her floral love.

One day, she was at last justified in that squashing when he finally agreed to meet with her outside of class and friendship blossomed between them. They were soon talking about a great many non-Academy related things, conversations about books, art, and philosophy, every discussion more interesting than any she had ever had, and even playing music together when he had free time.

Her happiness floated along with her, buzzing just beneath her skin.

She was an untouchable bubble, joyful air encased in a beautiful shining shell.

The happiness' shell; however, was prickled somewhat by the fact that no matter how open she was with him, no matter how many of her dreams and memories she placed in his confidence, he gave her nothing beyond the odd tidbit in return.

His silence made her uneasy, it cast a shadow upon her cheerful glow, but she always dismissed it. He certainly wasn't letting anyone else sing while he played the Vulcan lute. That had to count for something. His race showed affection differently and she was sure it was only a matter of time until their relationship changed.

Her plans of them being together consumed a larger portion of her inner life than she liked to admit. She couldn't help but to indulge them anyway.

Obviously he needed to consider going to the next level carefully, since romantic relations were so serious for his people, and it _would_ reflect poorly on him if they got together while she was his student.

She anticipated that they would become an "official" couple after her upcoming graduation and contented herself with learning about him what she could in the meantime.

The nagging voice in her head whispered about counting chickens before they were hatched, but she shook it off, choosing to mull over their future instead.

One of the greatest regrets in her life so far was that she never got to find out which part of her was right – a distress call came in during an academic hearing.

It changed everything.

She went from cadet to officer, she saw an entire planet destroyed, and she discovered with certainty that he did not love her back.

He was meant for someone else.

**Hello!**

**I sat down to work on my other stories and this is what came out. Funny, isn't it, how words have ideas of their own. So this is going to be a two or three part thing from Uhura's point of view, but it's about Kirk and Spock. I'm far too addicted to slash and soul-mates to ever throw in for Uhura/Spock, but I do love her character and I think she gets shafted a lot, so I'm really having fun with this.**

**Thanks so muc****h for reading and I'll love you forever if you review...**

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I own nothing.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Strike the First**

* * *

The first strike against her conclusions about their future relations came with the handing out of ship assignments.

She got the nasty shock of finding he had placed her on the Farragut. It resulted in one of the few arguments they'd ever had and quite a blow to the obstinacy of her blind attachment to him.

She supposed he did it to try and protect her, put her on a safer ship, and a small part of her rejoiced at the regard, but an overwhelming part of her roared in outrage and betrayal; he knew how much she wanted the Enterprise, they had discussed it just last week.

It's not like she was a relationship expert, having never been in love before now, but she didn't think that true romantic love was about disregarding each other's dreams for one's own convenience. If someone shares so great a part of themselves with you, wouldn't you do what was in your power to help them along the way?

_Not_ shuffle them off to the Farragut without second thought.

And if, in the best case scenario, he did do it out of an overwhelming desire for her safety, then he should not have kowtowed to her argument so easily.

Admittedly, she had been accused by friend and foe alike of being head-strong and willful, and thus it wasn't as though her objections lacked force, but she wasn't all _that_ stubborn…

Well, maybe she was, but still, if anyone could have persuaded her, it would have been him.

And she _knew_ that he was obstinate – he could teach endurance to stones – so why didn't he stick to his original plans and stop her with his steely, precise logic? Or even with some trumped-up premise?

God knew he had investigated the Kobayashi Maru incident obsessively, unflagging in his conviction that the cadet had cheated.

She came by his office as usual, thinking that they might talk, but instead she was treated to watching him at the computer for hours. He'd been one-minded and laser-like in his search, going over every line of code multiple times. Meticulous and thorough.

Finally, he sent her away, claiming his need for solitude for optimal concentration and her own need to eat. Defeated, she left with only with his promise to see her in a few days.

Days!

And yet he'd been swayed from his original path regarding her placement so easily. He could put his entire being into tracking the farm-boy, but couldn't be bothered with her. Even now, it rankled.

Well, maybe it was better that he didn't love her because if he had, she would have died with the rest of the Farragut's crew. Dark was her comfort and a shudder ran through her at the thought.

_Lucky me_, she thought wryly, _reciprocal feelings would have been my doom._

The first near miss with death was still sharp for her, filling her stomach with dizziness when she thought about it.

Sometimes though, in the privacy of her mind, she took a perverse comfort in the fact that she wasn't alone in almost dying because of him.

He almost killed the person with whom he was really in love too.

With his own two hands nonetheless.

* * *

**So maybe this will end up being a longer series than I thought it would. 'Tis fun to write and doesn't seem to want to be short.**

**Thank you to everyone who already alerted and favorited! Especial thanks to those who reviewed. You're all awesome.**

**Any other tell-tale signs of Spock not digging Uhura that you think should be included? I've got a few, but I'd like to see other evidence. **

******Hope you enjoyed and I would looovvveee to hear from you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Second Strike**

* * *

Her love's hard armor crumpled at the second strike, but it didn't fold completely.

Sometimes she thought that she didn't give up right then just because of her deeply rooted belief in old adages and superstitions. Trouble always came in threes. Everything came in threes. What kind of omen was ever delivered on a two?

No, three was a very magical number. He had to reject her three times (at least) to make it real.

Or maybe it had more to do with the fact she was still neck deep in denial at that point.

Either way, the blow was delivered, but she wasn't incapacitated.

He had lost his mother. His home. An entire planet – its history, civilization, people – gone, disappeared into the void. Of course he would be numb. It wasn't even her personal tragedy and still she was profoundly affected. Never before had life seemed so pointless, so senseless to her.

She still woke up some nights crying and desperately scrabbling for her headset, for in her dreams she hoped against hope that she could save them. Tell them to evacuate. Anything.

She imagined it as an oil slick lying in wait in her stomach, always ready to trip her when she thought it safe.

It was a guilt that they all lived with; she saw it reflected all around her.

In the doctor, in the pilot, in the captain.

Especially in the captain.

At any mention of Vulcan, the inner light that shone from his eyes dimmed momentarily and they moved almost of their own accord to train on him. Whether the two of them were on the bridge, on planet, or at diplomatic meetings, Kirk's eyes never had far to go. He was always nearby – the captain's green shadow.

What struck her every time though, was that he actually looked back at the captain.

No matter how brief the meeting of their eyes, it said everything.

That he acknowledged his support and empathy as something real.

That he didn't hate Kirk's concern the way that he loathed the false, political sympathy of others and that the captain should not worry on his behalf.

It was comfort, given and taken freely, each man renewed from a single glance.

She didn't think that anyone else knew him well enough to read his expressions, that anyone else was watching closely enough to see the depth of their feeling.

Sometimes she wished that she didn't have a nature so curious and observant as hers. Wished that she didn't hear their bodies' whispered signs as loudly as shouts…

No. It was pointless to get wrapped up in these thoughts. She inhaled deeply, ship air sharp as she went down the hall.

It was getting better. _She_ was getting better.

Her skin no longer burned with anger towards the captain, who really hadn't done anything to her purposefully, who was blameless in his receiving of love.

She no longer wanted to crawl under her station when she thought about them.

No longer wanted wallow in shame when she remembered the second strike.

* * *

Madness, confusion, shouts, so much suffering. So much pain. He was hollow, the emptiness of his expression foreboding.

Finally, a chance. She got him alone in the lift.

"What do you need? Tell me. Tell me."

Please, tell me. Let me help you. I love you. Need me too.

"I need everyone to continue performing admirably."

His voice strained, she could feel his emotional dams cracking.

A coldness in her heart, even as she leaned forward and touched their lips together.

"Okay."

He responded for seconds that stretched out into forever for her.

His lips weren't like she had imagined; they were at the same time better and infinitely worse.

Worse because all she had felt behind the kiss was sadness.

Desperately, she had touched his face. It was so intimate, so close.

But he was devastated, compromised. She didn't want him like this and he didn't either.

She let go and he was gone.

Did not look back.

* * *

That's what hits her so forcefully whenever he and the captain meet eyes; that he always looks backward, forward, sideways, diagonally, vertically, horizontally, every way for Kirk, but he wouldn't, or couldn't, do the same for her.

Her stomach still flops when she thinks about it, but what could she have done?

It is only from the vantage of the future that the past becomes clear.

* * *

**Hello! Sorry I've been so slow with updates. School is killa. But summer comes soon, bringing with it fresh waves of slash time.**

**Thanks so much for reading and I would really appreciate hearing what you think, no matter how brief. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Strike the Third**

* * *

So, as it turned out, three really was her magic number. It was the third incident that made manifest to her that they were not soul mates, fated loves, meant to be, or any of the other silly variations of the label she had hoped to stick to their relationship.

* * *

The entire mission had been building up to it really. She knew he prided himself upon his impenetrable Vulcanian control. She also knew that he was not nearly as in-control of himself as he believed.

There were other Vulcans at the Academy, not many, but enough that with her observation skills she was fairly familiar with their behavior. They were neither kind nor unkind, happy nor unhappy, interested nor disinterested; they were completely neutral with smooth faces and voices. Even when she had espied them in a group interacting with each other, they were the same.

He, on the other hand, was highly expressive if one took the time to look.

From their first conversation, she could see that he loved his culture, his language, poetry.

As time went on, he unknowingly revealed more with his facial movements and voice tone.

He got excited by student progress and beautiful things. He loved his mother and his distant father. He was fascinated by space and science. He disliked the cold and alien cuisine. He was proud to the point of arrogance and headstrong, and for all of his amazing accomplishments, he was still desperately seeking approval.

She used to think that if she tried hard enough, she could be the answer to all of the questions he sought.

But then, there was that mission, and she knew him too well to keep denying all the signs that she wasn't his truth.

* * *

It was clear from the first time the two interacted that he was strongly affected by the cadet, the object of many hours of his intense scrutiny who had suddenly become an actual tangible being.

A being who stood there and defied his careful categorizations of the world, and then in continuing to defy him, proved him, the nearly infallible, wrong.

It had dawned on her that before the hearing, the cadet had been a mere boy to him, a boy with talent and luck, but a boy nonetheless. Upon meeting him however, it became apparent that the cadet was, in fact, a man; a man who could best him in his own arena without a trace of strain.

And not only was Kirk proving to be his equal, but, to top it off, he was wrapped in confusing package of contradictory personality traits; arrogance and insecurity, bluster and sincerity, intelligence and (overwhelming) stupidity, inexperienced, but with natural command ability.

Hell, she found Kirk interesting, and she thought he was pretty scummy.

Here, in hindsight, she saw that there had been no way the Vulcan, who delighted in puzzles and had a driving need to know everything, was going to be able to resist his draw.

Sometimes she hated how right she could be.

* * *

He had been behaving very out of character since they had boarded the ship and found the cadet.

It seemed to her that he was digging in his heels and refusing to hear the sense of Kirk's arguments just to show that the other man was wrong. He was not using his precious logical reasoning at all. Instead, he was behaving like a petulant child who realized the new kid on the playground had much better toys than he did.

What the fuck had he been thinking marooning Kirk?

Seriously, she had never exactly liked the guy, but it seemed a bit much.

At that point, she had a hard time banishing the image of her normally icy companion as an old Terran cartoon clutching a cigar between his teeth and wildly rolling his eyes in crazed triumph.

No one else saw it, except for maybe that doctor who was always hanging around the cadet (no matter if Pike had made him FO, he was still cadet to her), but her Vulcan was being completely irrational.

His emotions, which were always closer to the surface than he liked to believe, were starting to boil over. Truly, the whole choking thing had only been the cherry atop the out-of-control sundae.

It had been horrifying, and watching it had stripped from her some innocence she didn't know that she'd had. To this day, love or no, she still couldn't look at him exactly the same way, but she could not honestly claim to be surprised.

She couldn't tell if it was really because of Kirk, or the entire situation, or some combination thereof, but he had definitely been losing it, and there was nothing she could have done to help him.

Well, correction, she had _tried_, but she knew how that had turned out.

_Kisses. God, how could she have been so stupid as to try it not once, but twice? The second time, on the transporter pad had been much to the same result. He allowed it, even responded a little, but it had felt the same. And had broken from her as though she burnt him when the cadet came in. But she had had to try again. But did she really have to say something so dumb about frequency monitoring? It hadn't been that bad. Right?_…

Nope. She shook her head firmly. Not going there again. Once was stupid, twice was stupider, and she knew that now. End of story.

She sent her thoughts skittering back to the third sign, the one that was both the least and most painful.

* * *

They had gotten back from the mission. It was a horrible, sad time for everyone, but still, they had all received a hero's welcome. There was cheering and medal dispensing, while smiling faces blended together in a large crowd at their ceremony and she savored the feeling of solid Earth against her feet. Faced with a distinct lack of options and the need for good press, Starfleet had even made all of their promotions legitimate, and given them the Enterprise.

She was loath to admit it, but the cadet had acquitted himself admirably, winning her respect (if not her like) when he stood down to offer their enemies aid. It had to be said that there was no one quite like him.

Though, in her musings, she had come to realize that he was startlingly like the Vulcan formerly-thought-of-as-hers in the oddest ways.

Maybe that's what made them such a good team: because, even at the height of their dislike (she would say mutual, but something about Kirk suggested to her that he'd _never_ disliked the half-Vulcan) they had still managed to kick ass, save the day, and carry them all back home safely as a team.

Although, that was partially what had finally broken her belief in their destiny.

He had nearly refused to come back to the Enterprise. She knew him; he was going to go overwhelm himself with duties to his people and hide from the feelings still churning in his system, grief for lost people, and perhaps more importantly, his mother. He would justify it as the only right course of action, the most logical, maybe he would even secretly think himself noble for sacrificing his own preference for space.

She really didn't want to push him when he was already hurting, and in truth, she was afraid to speak with him, to hear him verbalize the rejection he had already offered in the lift.

It wasn't long before Kirk found her though, and started trying to persuade her to persuade him to accept commission. She had laughed bitterly when he first brought it up.

"Ha. Why do you think he would listen to me farmboy?"

He had grinned easily at her.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because he's your boyfriend? I certainly wouldn't let the woman I love go unsupervised into space with a sex bomb like me."

He punctuated his words with a wicked eyebrow waggle.

Her heart was leaden and her denial automatic.

"He isn't my boyfriend. And don't worry, I am completely immune to your dubious charms."

He brushed aside the second part of her response, focusing instead upon the first part.

"What? Um, I think you might need to talk to him about that then because on the beaming pad, he definitely told me to tell you he loved you in the event that he died."

She looked up sharply then, hope cutting her from the inside. Her surprise hadn't been lost on him.

"I know right, pretty crazy for a Vulcan. You must be _fantastic_…"

He let his voice trail off suggestively.

"You, sir, are a disgusting pig."

Kirk grinned as she started walking away.

"You'll talk to him then?"

"With all due respect, go fuck yourself."

"That wasn't a no!" was the cheeky reply.

So she tried to talk to him during their time on-planet.

She used all of her considerable conversation and persuasion skills, but to no avail. He would not be budged.

Finally, about to give it up and in the heat of desperation, she did something unwise – she asked the question that she really wanted to ask.

"Kirk said that when you were beaming down and thought that you might not make it back, you told him to tell me that… you loved me."

Her voice was tiny and she hated it.

Across the desk that sat between them, he stiffened.

"Captain Kirk is quite mistaken. He assumed he knew the content of my thoughts. In the event that I did not return, I wished for him to tell you –" he paused and his voice was suspiciously hoarse when he began again, "to look after my mother. I had intended for her to live, even at the expense of my own life, and you are the only one I would have trusted to see her safely through the rest of the mission."

It was as though the air was sucked out of the room. She was having a hard time getting her lungs to function.

Oh, so that was what he wanted to say. It wasn't a romantic confession, but it was the most heartfelt admission of love she had ever received from another being.

But now she knew it in her bones, and couldn't carry on pretending that she didn't. They would never be together the way she wanted. Drawing in a deep breath, she forced her still lungs to expand. She smiled at him as tears pricked her eyes.

"Nyota-"

"Don't," she whispered. "I would have been honored to do that for you. She was the luckiest mother in the universe to have such a son."

She stood and went to the door.

"Goodbye Spock."

He looked at her, puzzled by her strange tone of finality.

"Farewell Nyota."


	5. Chapter 5

**Building Anew**

* * *

When he showed up on the Enterprise, at the behest of what she could only imagine was some fantastical outside force, she wasn't surprised.

She knew that he hadn't undergone a change of heart and shown up because of anything involving her. They hadn't even spoken since she'd said goodbye to him and her doomed affections, but all the same, she wasn't shocked to see him.

After all, she was the leading expert (okay, the only expert) on Spock and love, and, really, it was painfully obvious to her that it was lying in wait for him on the Enterprise.

He'd strode onto the bridge, and the frantic activity stilled. Though her eyes were typically locked onto him, this time, she found herself watching the captain. With the way he was looking at the Vulcan, she seriously doubted that anyone else existed for him in that moment.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain."

"Permission granted."

"As you have yet to select a first officer, respectfully, I would like to submit my candidacy. Should you desire I can provide character references."

"It would be my honor Commander."

The sheer joy she felt emanating from each was of such a degree that she wondered how no one else seemed to realize that they had just been witness to a momentous exchange. It had been as solemn and binding as a wedding. Neither man could go back now; they were linked together for life, as surely as if they had exchanged rings, she was certain of it.

It still hurt her, but she remembered her indignant thoughts upon being placed on the _Farragut_; wasn't real love about supporting each other? And though she was no longer _exactly_ in love with Spock, she did love him. He and the captain would have a hard enough road ahead of them without her petty enmity.

So it was hard, and she had to struggle with it nearly every day, but she was working on getting over him and moving on with her life.

Shit, she even managed to play a casual game of chess with the captain without once thinking of smashing his overly pretty head into the table (well, okay, maybe once, but seriously, the man was still insufferable.)

* * *

Thus reaffirmed in her resolution, her reflections came to an end and she passed into Engineering, where a certain elusive Scotsman was long overdue in helping her find a way to make the handheld communicators more efficient and less prone to interference.

She searched all over the department, finally finding him lying on his back, working on some wiring beneath an electrical bay. Grinning, she approached and stood next to him, watching him work and listening to his soft mutterings of mixed cajolings and curses.

An impatient hand appeared, and waved about demandingly. "Damn it. I'll be needin' that wrench now Keenser, ya bloody bastard."

Amused, she asked, "Who are you calling a bloody bastard?" in a perfect imitation of his accent.

Through her inner giggles, she admired the way he slid out from the bay so quickly without busting his head open. He sat up, and came face to face with the mid-thigh length hem of her skirt. His fair face flushed and his eyes leapt to hers, but not before she caught that stare.

"Well, uh, if it isn't Lt. Uhura. Still on about the comms then?"

He was favored with her sweetest smile.

"Why yes, until the crew of this ship receives the best we have to offer, then I am. Don't worry, the Captain cleared you some time and wished us luck."

"I'm sure he did," the disgruntled Scotty mumbled.

Sighing, he stood up anyway. "Lead away m'lady."

Triumphant, she walked ahead of him over to a small workroom she had already set up with supplies and plans. Thinking himself safe from her notice, his eyes drifted to her legs and stayed there. But she could feel them with each step, almost as if they were actually touching her skin.

The small grin on her face widened.

Maybe the miniskirt hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

* * *

**Woo-hoo! My first multi-chapter fic is done. I just had to add this chapter, so that everyone could have a happy ending. I didn't want the sure-to-be-long-suffering Uhura left all alone! And Simon Pegg has plenty of charm. :)**

**Thanks so much to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, alerted, and any combo of the above. Awesome readers are what make writing worthwhile.**


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